


A Collection Of Sad SBI. Oneshots

by killme69420



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Anorexia, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, BPD, Bulimia, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Multiple Personalities, Panic Attacks, References to Depression, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings, philza - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28355784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killme69420/pseuds/killme69420
Summary: Just sad SBI. Oneshots. Tw’s in the tags. A lot of these will be Tommy-centric.Requests are open.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

Please head with caution if anything in the tags triggers you. First chapter will be posted shortly. 


	2. Chapter One- Why Can’t I Be Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy’s struggling with self-harm and an ed. How will the SBI help?

Tommy feels hot water stream there his hair. It’s almost suffocating. His head is swarming with thoughts. ‘Why can’t you be like Wilbur?’ He thought. He had always seen Wilbur as perfect. He was handsome and talented. Everyone wanted to be like him.   
  


That’s what motivated Tommy. That’s what motivated him to starve. Wilbur was thin. So he would be thin. Wilbur was funny. So Tommy would work on his humor. He’d spend hours doing it.   
  


Every time he would mess up or even falter he’d make a little tally in his head. Ever tally was a cut, or another hour of starvation. 

Every day he’d feel sore. His legs ached with all the cuts. Every time he’d press the razor into his leg it’s reveal the ugly fat under his skin. 

He hated it. He hated it so much. 

Tommy reached for the shower nob. He pressed down, the water came to a stop. His legs burned from the irritation. But after so many years of doing this it’s was only a mild inconvenience. 

He pulled a towel around his waist and jumped out of the shower. He was met with the cold air. He hated it. He hated so many things right now. 

He walked out of the bathroom looking at his messy room. He walked over to the door and locked it. 

He pulled some clothes out of his dresser and slipped it on. It was pretty plain. Just some sweatpants and a black T-shirt.   
  


He sighed. His hand rubbed the fabric on his thighs itching at the scabbed over cuts. He was so exhausted.   
  


He opened his door and walked downstairs. He heard faint strumming from Will’s room and some weird game sounds from Techno’s. He could hear Phil humming in the kitchen. He was probably cooking.   
  


He made note of the smell of chicken and rice, one of his favorites. He leaned against the door frame of the kitchen looking at Phil. He was busy on the stove season piled next to him.   
  


He coughed getting Phil’s attention. Phil spun around. “Oh hey Tommy! You okay?” Phil asked. Tommy so badly wanted to say ‘no’ and cry in Phil’s arms. But he bit his tongue. ‘Come on dude you’ve spent so many years masking this’ one of the voices in his head said.   
  


He smiled letting out a small chuckle. “Yep!” He said. Phil smiled “someone’s in a good mood!” Phil said.   
  


Tommy kept a small smile on his face.   
  


* * *

Tommy was sitting next to Wilbur. They were all eating dinner. Tommy cringed every bite of food he took. He’d just throw it up later. He scrunched his face just thinking about the pain of purging.   
  


Techno looked over at Tommy. “You good?” Techno asked. Tommy forced a smile again. “Yeah! Just tired!” He said in his obnoxiously loud voice.   
  


Techno smiled. “Can I go upstairs I’m full?” Tommy asked. Phil looked over. “Really you’ve barely touched your food?” Phil said staring at Tommy’s barely touched food. “What’d ya mean? I’ve ate a lot!” Tommy said giving Phil a worryingly confused look.   
  


Phil cringed. ‘Somethings off’ Phil thought. He just nodded and Tommy threw his plate in the sink and headed up stairs.   
  


Everyone at the table made eye contact. “Is he okay?” Wilbur asked. They were all wondering the same thing. Techno shrugged. “I’m going to check on him.” Techno said.   
  


They all nodded and Techno ran upstairs. He walked threw the familiar hallway to Tommy’s room. He knocked once. No response. He jiggled the door handle. It was locked.   
  


He knitted his eyebrows. He looking at the top of Tommy’s door pondering if he should use the spare key.   
  


He reached up and grabbed it. His heart raced a little bit. He unlocked the door and saw Tommy’s messy room.   
  


Tommy was skewed on the floor next to a trash can. He looked like shit. He was probably sick. But something was off. “Was that blood?” Techno asked walking over to Tommy.   
  


He was laying on the floor dead asleep. Techno saw a little pool of blood on his pant leg. He squatted. His hand moved to pull up Tommy’s pant leg.   
  


His ankles and calves were littered with cuts. Deep and bleeding. They were small caverns of fat and severed veins and artery’s.   
  


Techno started to freak out. One was still pulsing with blood. He felt like throwing up. He grabbed Tommy’s phone. He should text Phil to grab the first aid kit. He didn’t want to leave Tommy’s side.   
  


He already knew Tommy’s password. Once he opened his phone he was met with Twitter opened up. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal if Techno wasn’t met with tweets of meanspo and pictures of cuts.   
  


Did Tommy have an eating disorder???? He opened up his profile looking at the hundreds of tweets of Tommy boasting about throwing up his meals and about how little he ate. It made Techno sick.   
  


He set his phone down and looked back down at his brother. He yelled downstairs for Phil too hurry up.   
  


He heard frantic footsteps as Phil and Wilbur ran up the stairs. Phil and Will ran into Tommy’s room. They both stared down at Tommy’s open wounds and cuts.   
  


Phil panicked “Wilbur grab the first aid kit!” He yelled as he hurried over to Tommy.   
  


“Tommy what have you done!?”

* * *

Tommy felt his eyes flutter open. Was he in his bed? He felt a blanket neatly tucked over his body. Was he in shorts? He could feel a blanket heavy over his legs. He looked over to his side to see a sleeping Will in a chair next to his bed.   
  


“Wil?” Tommy asked. Wilbur shot up. “Oh my god Tommy you’re awake!!!” He yelled rushing over to embrace Tommy in a tight hug.   
  


Tommy was still confused. Until Will started Berating him with questions. “Do your legs hurt? Do you need me to clean out your cuts? Are you okay?” He questioned. Tommy freaked out.

He knew? About the cutting. Wilbur yanked the blanket off him and looked down at his bandages legs. “Okay you didn’t bleed threw the bandages. That’s good.” Wilbur nodded. “Can you tell me if it hurts to move them.”

Tommy let out a sharp sigh. He attempted to move his legs but yelled in pain. Wilbur freaked out. “Hey! Hey! It’s okay! Don’t move I’ll go get Phil!” Wilbur yelled running out of his room and grabbing Phil.   
  


Tommy was so confused he pulled his shirt away from his sweaty chest. He heard two sets of footsteps. Phil rushed him and crushed Tommy in a hug followed by Techno.   
  


Tommy felt tears prick his eyes as Phil let go. His face was flushed with concern. Everything hurt.   
  


His legs his stomach his head. Everything. Phil held up his phone and gave Tommy the look. “Techno found your Twitter account.” Phil said gazing at Tommy.   
  


Tommys heart rate increased. “Please. Next time you ever feel like you don’t deserve to eat, come to me.” Phil said. He was concerned.   
  


Tommy nodded. “I’m sorry.” He said. 

Phil, Wilbur, and Techno embraced Tommy in a hug. 

“We’re all here for you.” 


	3. Chapter 2- Art Is Subjective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has his own form of secret art. His body’s the canvas and his blood is the paint.

Tommy wrapped his hand around the bathroom lock. He twisted to nob and smiled. He opened his hand revealing a small razor blade.   
  


His heart was racing as he slipped his pants off and his shirt. He was left in nothing more than his boxers. He looked down at his fucked up thighs.   
  


Most were song lyrics or small doodles, some were just normal cuts. He looked down at some space by his knee. He pondered his options.   
  


He gave himself a Cheshire grin and dragged two lines vertically. He felt the stinging pain and his smile slightly faltered. But it was all art. The pain, the blood, the scars, all of it was art.   
  


He dabbed at the blood with some toilet paper. He put his blade back and started dragging it in a half crescent shape.   
  


He looked at the blood boiling to the surface. A small smiley face. He loved it. His smile returned as the pain faded and he blotted away at the blood and grabbed a bandage. He stuck it down and smiled.   
  


It wasn’t deep, so he wouldn’t have to worry about it.   
  


If anyone found out they would look at him like he was crazy. The only person he could think would slightly understand would be Techno. Yes...

Art was subjective. 


End file.
